


New Beginings

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-25
Updated: 2005-09-25
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione's engaged...and not to Ron.





	New Beginings

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Ron wasn’t drunk. Yet.

Although he knew he was teetering along the line between a solid buzz and pure intoxication. Any other day he would think it pathetic to be sitting alone and half drunk in the dark. But tonight he couldn’t give a fuck.

The night echoed his mood. Gray clouds shielded the stars from view as thunder echoed in the distance. Slouching lower in the blue armchair, Ron looked out the window of his flat and watched as the rain began to pound against the ground. His arm dangled over the side of the chair, loosely gripping the half empty bottle of Firewhiskey as he used his other hand to rub over the ache that had begun to build behind his eyes.

Ron was relieved when the hurt began to bloom into fury. He could handle anger…thrived on it. Merlin knows he relied on it enough when he was on missions for the Ministry.

But he had no Death Eater to stick a knife into tonight…only his memories and thoughts. They jabbed at him more painfully than any Death Eater could hope too.

It had been over an hour since Hermione’s surprise announcement at The Three Broomsticks. Over an hour since Ron had stormed out of the tavern amidst the hearty laughter, and enthusiastic congratulations. Fuck congratulations.

And fuck Hermione.

Sighing, Ron leaned forward and bent his head down as he clenched his eyes shut. The sudden pounding at his door had him jerking in his seat, but he didn’t move as the pounding continued.

“There’s no one home,” he muttered before lifting the bottle to his lips once more. The alcohol burned down his throat, causing him to hiss slightly before it exploded warmly inside of his stomach. As he rested back in the chair once more, he heard the door burst open, the howling of the wind and rain suddenly overwhelming the tiny flat. With both his feet and chest completely bare, Ron tried to conceal the shiver that coursed through him when the cool air surrounded his body but failed miserably as he released a sharp breath.

“Shut the bloody door!” he yelled, never taking his eyes off of the window in front of him. Ron heard several soft curses before the door finally slammed shut, dulling the sound of the storm once more.

Ron took another drink as the sound of heels clicking across the floor grew louder. Lifting an eyebrow, Ron swallowed and finally tore his eyes away from the window to Hermione, who was pulling off her gloves and robes in jerky movements as she glared down at him. She was a sight, her cinnamon colored eyes dark with annoyance and her pink lips set in a grim line. Ron watched a raindrop fall from the tips of her wet hair and splash onto the floor next to his foot.

“It was awful pleasant of you to up and leave,” Hermione said sarcastically as she shoved her gloves into the pockets of her robes. “What on earth got into you?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, turning his gaze back to the storm outside. His eyes narrowed when Hermione reached down to grab the bottle from his hands. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Are you drunk?”

“I was going to be before the night was done,” Ron explained. He tried to snatch the alcohol back, but Hermione lifted it from his grasp before examining the label. She huffed in irritation before turning to place it with a sharp snap on his coffee table.

“What’s going on, Ron?”

“I told you--nothing,” he replied, forcing the anger from his voice as he looked up at her. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him, her hands resting on her hips.

“You left without saying a word to me or Harry, or anyone for that matter—“

“I wasn’t feeling particularly festive, okay? Anyway, why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at your party? Or at home shagging your fiancé?”

“Don’t be crude.”

When he remained silent, Hermione placed her robes next to the bottle of Firewhiskey before she turned back to Ron, her eyes softening.

“I want you to be happy for me.”

He felt his body tremble when she knelt down in front of him, her hand reaching out to the arm of the chair for balance.

“I’ve been with Michael for almost a year,” she pointed out. “You seemed to like him then. You seemed to be happy that I had found someone.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ron snapped, his cheeks flushing with anger and resentment. “Do you want me to say I’m happy that you’re getting married? That I’m excited to see you walk down the aisle to another bloke?”

“Ron, we’ve been apart for two years!” Hermione exclaimed with an air of frustration. “We both agreed after Hogwarts that we were just too different…we argued constantly—”

“We’ve been arguing since we were eleven,” Ron said softly. “I always thought it was just part of what made us…want each other so much.”

“You can’t base a relationship on bickering—“

“What about sex?”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but paused, obviously taken back. He saw her lips curve into a small smile as she looked away.

“Ron, we’ve had this discussion before, remember? I thought we had both thought it best—“

“All right,” Ron interrupted, closing his eyes once more. The alcohol had his head swimming. “You’re right. I’m being petty. I reckon I just…”

“You just what?” Hermione pressed when he had trailed off.

“I reckon I always thought that someday we would be together…really together. That we would take our time and see what else was out there—“

“Ron—“

“The only problem was,” he continued, “that nothing out there compared to you.”

She stared at him silently as regret clouded her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Ron said with a small smile before he leaned forward and cupped her face. “If Michael makes you happy—then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her hand falling from the arm of the chair to his knee and squeezing comfortingly.

Unable to resist, Ron slid his thumbs over her jaw before sliding his hands back into her damp hair. She blinked, her sudden nervousness evident when his eyes lowered to her lips. He knew he shouldn’t…but the Firewhiskey had loosened his manners to the point where he didn’t care what was right or wrong.

“Ron, please don’t—“

“Just once,” he promised before lowering his mouth to hers.

He felt her hesitate for a moment before she moved her lips against his timidly. It was a chaste kiss…mirroring their first behind the stacks in the library at Hogwarts. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to memorize the taste of her mouth and the softness of her lips. He wanted it to be burned upon his memory for the nights when he slept alone in his bed and thought of her.

He had meant to pull away and scolded himself when he didn’t. But as she continued to kiss him, he felt himself losing touch with the reality that she would soon leave him and marry someone else.

She whispered his name when his lips left hers to press against her cheek, then her jaw. Opening his eyes, he saw that hers were still closed and her lips were slightly parted as she tilted her head to the side to allow him easier access to her neck. He took the invitation and suckled gently at her pulse point. His trousers were tightening painfully as her breathing became shallow and tiny whimpers vibrated through her throat.

When his lips fell to her shoulder and his hands began to unbutton her blouse, Hermione suddenly jerked away, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. Ron let his hands fall from her hair as they stared at one another. He saw the confusion in her expression…the guilt. He remained silent, knowing this was her decision to make. He wouldn’t try to convince her, nor would he remind her of the life she chose.

Hermione shifted once more onto her knees, and for a moment, Ron was sure she was going to grab her robes and run. Instead his gaze fell to her hands, which lifted to continue unbuttoning the blouse. He groaned inwardly and watched, hypnotized, as she pulled the flimsy material apart. It slid down her arms to fall to the ground, followed quickly by the simple white bra she had unhooked and pulled off.

Ron breathed her name and reached for her, holding his breath when she stood and climbed onto the chair before straddling his lap. Their mouths met once more, frantically this time, frustration and want pouring out between them.

He closed his eyes and groaned softly when her fingernails circled his nipples before softly moving over one of his many scars. Then she was following the soft patch of hair down his stomach to the waistband of his trousers. He heard the clinking of metal as she pulled his belt apart. Her slim fingers unsnapped the button of his trousers before they fell to his zipper.

Sweet Christ, he was dying…his arousal was iron hard and pulsating with anticipation inside of his boxers. Hermione shifted, gripping his shoulder with one hand as she slipped the other down into his trousers and cupped him gently.

His eyes snapped open and their gazes locked. She was watching him as she began to stroke him with her palm. He gripped her hips tightly and jerked into her hand, wanting more…always more.

Unable to resist, Ron slipped a hand under Hermione’s skirt and hooked a finger inside the elastic of her knickers. She cried out when he found her hot and wet. He reveled in the fact that he could affect her that way…he thrived on it.

Hermione was suddenly writhing on top of him, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip with a desperate urgency. Ron tried to catch his breath, but she continued to steal it from him, her hands and tongue doing the most amazing things to his senses.

When her lips fell to his earlobe, his eyes fell shut as he moaned. He was stroking her quickly, feeling her clit swell and throb against his fingers.

“Inside me…now,” she gasped.

Ron didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted his hips and pushed his trousers and boxers down before he gripped her knickers and tore at the material. Flinging them to the ground, Ron took her hips and positioned her over his aching erection quickly. She opened her eyes and looked at him before sliding down and sheathing him completely.

He couldn’t stop the loud groan that escaped his lips as his head fell back onto the cushion. Years ago, she had been his first, and he had been hers…they had made love so many times afterwards…but every time felt like the first. This was no different. She was clenched tightly around him and rocking slowly, her head thrown back as she moaned over and over.

He remembered he loved watching her…she always looked so wanton and erotic. It drove him mad.

Thrusting up into her harder, he felt her nails digging into his shoulders as she leaned forward until their bodies were sliding against one another’s. She nipped at his ear, her breathy whispers causing him to wrap his arms around her tightly and jerk his hips up to hers faster. He wanted to hear his name on her lips…one more time.

Then they were both crying out as the passion rolled through them painfully. She was using the chair as leverage to push down as he thrust up and as he felt his release uncoiling inside, she came, a strangled cry in her throat as she arched back and rode it out.

“Ron!”

Sweat dripped down his chest as he held her to him and thrust erratically. He gasped until he found release, thrusting once more inside of her until he had emptied himself completely.

Moments later she was laying limp against him, her cheek resting on his damp shoulder. Ron closed his eyes and stroked her hair as his hand fell to her lower back. Merlin, he didn’t want her to leave. He was warm--safe when he was buried deep inside of her. He suddenly realized how lost he was when she was gone. How lost he had been the two years they had been apart.

“This creates a dilemma.”

Her voice was soft and thoughtful. Ron opened his eyes and turned his head. He breathed in the scent of rain and vanilla from her hair before he kissed the top of her head.

“Does it?”

“I can’t possibly marry Michael now.”

Ron frowned, but rested his head against hers as he watched the rain outside. It had slowed to a lazy trickle and the clouds had begun to separate.

“You can. He doesn’t have to know what happened…I won’t tell him.”

“You don’t understand,” Hermione said quietly as she pulled herself up until she was looking down at him. “I can’t marry him while I’m still in love with you.”

Ron blinked in confusion. Surely he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“You’re still in love with me?”

This time she frowned, brushing away a stray piece of ginger hair from his forehead. “I don’t think I ever stopped. Logic clouded my feelings…”

“Surprising,” Ron said dryly, chuckling when she slapped his shoulder gently. “Sorry.”

“Are we back to where we started?” Hermione sighed. “We can’t have a healthy relationship based on making love and arguing, Ron.”

“Then how about we have one based on being in love with one another?” Ron countered, sliding his hands over her bottom. “And making love.”

She paused, looking deep in thought before her eyes closed. “I can’t think when you do that…”

“Do what?” He asked quietly, thrusting inside of her slowly.

“Ron,” Hermione scolded half-heartedly.

“Say you’ll be with me.”

She moaned when he thrust again. “What?”

“Be with me,” Ron repeated, watching her lick her lips.

When he stopped moving, she opened her eyes to look at him. “Will it work this time?”

Ron slipped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her down to his lips.

“We’ll make it work.”

She began to rock over him again, but he caught her grin before his eyes closed happily and her lips captured his.


End file.
